Seeing is Believing
by KujotheVicious
Summary: When Tony is hit with a strange curse from a new villain, he's going to have to look within himself to find the cure. Tony/Bruce
1. Chapter 1

Bruce carefully lifted the eyedropper with one hand, shifting it over to hover above the open beaker. It was a caustic chemical; one misstep and he'd have a nice circle of acid burning through his hand. He added two drops of it, then waited, his eyes searching for any reaction.

Nothing. Good. It was what he'd been expecting. Now to add two more drops, and see where that left-

His hand jerked at a sudden sound from out in the hallway, and the entire eyedropper's worth of acid squirted into the beaker, the contents starting to fizz. A thud, the scuffle of shoes, and then a very girlish giggle. He sighed, putting the eyedropper back into the vial where it came from and then pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

This was the third night in a row Tony had dragged home some random woman. Ever since Pepper had called it quits on their relationship, the man had been a whirlwind of alcohol and flirtation with any attractive female in a 50 mile radius.

Another thud, and more voices in the hall. Bruce stepped over to the door, cracking it open and leaning on the doorframe.

"Tony, your bedroom is two floors up-" he started, only to pause when he realized just how utterly hammered the other man was. Tony had one arm draped over his date's shoulders, and he grinned at Bruce a bit stupidly.

"Wrong floor, yeah. We just fell out. Of the elevator," he said, pointing vaguely back the way they'd come. "Bruce, Brucey boy…this is Fiona."

The buxom brunette smirked and wave to Bruce, just as unsteady on her feet as Tony seemed to be. Bruce just nodded to her, and then gave Tony a look.

"Get back to the elevator before you break something," he pointed out, stepping back into the lab and moving back to his workstation. His stomach felt like it had dropped out the bottom of his feet. He hated seeing Tony like this, clinging to whatever girl that wanted to get into his pants, but what was he doing to say? It wasn't like he could change Tony's mind.

_Tony, stop being ridiculous and cut back on the alcohol._

Yeah, that would go over well. Pepper had tried that, for sure, and it hadn't worked.

_They're only sleeping with you because you're rich and popular, Tony._

Who said he didn't know that already? Who said he even cared?

_Tony, I kind of feel like I may have fallen for you, even though I'm your friend and it can't really ever work because I'm sort of a monster on the inside and you're entirely out of my league._

Yeah, needless to say, that wasn't even going to come close.

Bruce sat down, pressing his hands to his forehead with a heavy sigh, staring at the beaker. The contents were just finishing their reaction, having fizzed down to nearly nothing, bubbling and popping in the container. He'd have to start over.

He didn't even have the motivation to work any more at the moment. He just wanted to sit there and stare at the table, really, and not think about anything. Or think about everything.

But if there was one thing he'd gotten used to through all these years, it was having hopeless dreams and learning to move on, go through the motions, and just…keep going.

He began to clean up the mess, listing in his head the chemicals that he'd need to start the whole thing over again. The formula that lay on the table wasn't labeled, but had Tony stopped to look, he would have known what it was immediately- a new gaseous mixture for the ventilation system in his suit, designed for longer times spent in environments with little to no oxygen. Like deep water.

Or space.

* * *

Tony woke up the next morning with a raging headache. He felt like there was a small creature inside his head, scratching and biting to be let out, and opening his eyes to sunlight didn't help in the least.

At least the woman was gone. What had her name been? Fiona? Didn't matter. She was lousy in bed, and he'd told her as much, leaving her to scream obscenities at him as she clutched her clothes and ran for the door.

"JARVIS, what time is it…?"

"It's presently 9:43 in the morning, sir," the AI replied, and Tony flopped over, grabbing his phone off the bedside table. Yep, two missed calls from Pepper. He'd probably missed a meeting or something. Not that he particularly cared, she'd just bring the papers to him later and say 'sign this, sign that', and that was much preferable to playing nice with a bunch of stuffy stockbrokers.

He groaned and swung his legs out of the bed, ordering JARVIS to lower the shades a bit. That sunlight was vicious. He glanced at his phone again, the night before coming back to him in bits and pieces.

The elevator. He'd hit the wrong button, they stumbled out on the wrong floor, and…Bruce. Yeah, Bruce hadn't looked happy at all, he remembered that much.

He got up and pulled on sweatpants and a tank top, stretching and popping his neck as he stepped out into the hallway and made his way down to the kitchen, where he found Bruce sitting at the breakfast table, scribbling away on a pad of paper that looked like it couldn't possibly hold any more writing than it already did. A bowl of fruit sat next to the notepad, barely touched at this point.

"What's so fascinating?" Tony asked, grabbing a grape from the bowl and popping it into his mouth as he headed for the coffee machine.

"Just doing some reviews," Bruce said softly, in that kind of distant tone he got when his mind was most definitely elsewhere, focused on equations and chemicals and radiation and whatever else Banner got lost in. "Where's Fiona?"

Tony shrugged. "She left…sometime. I don't know," he said, getting the coffee maker started.

Bruce just nodded, making another scribble onto the paper, then tapping his pencil on the table with a frown. Tony was about to ask, but then his phone rang. He glanced at it and rolled his eyes; Nick Fury.

"Yeah?" he asked, grabbing a couple more grapes as he answered.

"We need all the Avengers at the governor's mansion. There's a…situation down here," Fury said.

"Situation? Does it happen to involve alcohol and gorgeous women? Because that's the kind of situation that would take me away from my coffee today."

"Just get here, Stark, we have civilians in danger."

Fury hung up, and Tony sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee and then drinking half of it without stopping. Bruce raised an eyebrow at him.

"Situation?"

Tony nodded. "Governor's mansion. I'll suit up, you get the others."

* * *

"You know, if I knew that by 'situation' he meant 'a mutant Snooki with a set of pipes that can bend steel, I would've stayed home."

Nobody answered Tony, but they didn't have to. That was pretty much what they were dealing with; an orange woman with crazy black hair whose screams and shrieks were enough to burst eardrums if you were too close. She was evidently very angry that the governor had left that morning for a summit in Washington D.C., and she was more than happy to take it out on anyone who got close.

Presently, the person who was closest was Steve. He flung his shield at her, and with a shrill cry, it was knocked away and lodged between the bricks in the wall. Steve moved in for a punch, and then she dodged, pressing one hand to his forehead. He seemed to stiffen, momentarily stunned.

"Oh, they like you a lot, don't they," she hissed, smiling with a face full of sharp fangs. "The Golden Boy, the one everyone looks up to. How…_boring_."

She was knocked away by Thor's hammer, and Steve dropped to a knee, gasping for air. "D-Don't get too close to her!" he yelled as Thor ran past him. "She can read minds or something, she was in my head!"

_Yeah, sure, _Tony thought, swinging around to try and get a clear shot at her, but she was too close to Thor. He hovered, trying for a different angle, just as the Hulk leapt into the fray.

Just as Tony was sure they had the upper hand, she let out a scream that made the electronics in his suit cut out, just for a few moments- but that was long enough. Luckily it was a short fall to the ground, because he was busy trying to clutch his ears through his helmet. His head was ringing, the pain like a fire lit in his head. Thor and the Hulk hadn't fared much better- being closer, they were both unconscious in the wreckage and bricks.

"The man of iron," the Snooki mutant said, stepping over to Tony and kicking him over onto his back. "How I've wanted a peek at how your friends see you…"

She pressed a hand to his forehead while he was still twitching with pain from the scream, and it was like something reached into his mind, pulling up memories as if his brain were a filing cabinet.

"…_and I'm a big fan of how you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."_

"…_Thanks."_

Another flash.

"_Big man in a suit of armor, take that away, and what are you?"_

"_Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."_

"_I know guys with none of that who are worth ten of you."_

Another.

"_So you think the Hulk…the Other Guy…saved me. That's nice, a nice sentiment. Saved me…for what?"_

"_I guess we'll find out."_

"_You might not enjoy that."_

"_And you just might."_

He was still reeling in memories, last night playing back for him like it was present, when he heard a laugh. "Oh, this is _delicious_! How blind are you, _Iron Man_?"

He twitched, unable to move or even think straight anymore as she pressed her other hand to his chest.

"You are among the blindest person I've ever had the fortune of seeing through another's eyes," she said, her voice almost musical now. "I can fix that. So, until you can see what is right in front of you, your physical blindness will match that of your mind. You have three days until your condition is permanent, Mr. Stark. The game is on!"

Everything went dark, and the last thing Tony heard were gunshots as Natasha rounded the corner and tried to distract the woman from Tony's limp form.

* * *

Tony woke up with a pained moan. The hangover had tripled in pain, and it took a few moments for him to remember why.

Oh, yeah. Snooki mutant using his brain like her own personal rolodex. He remembered now. He heard voices, familiar voices, and then felt a hand pressed to the armor on his chest.

"Hey, lay still, Tony," Bruce's voice said. "We're still trying to figure out what she did to you."

"Did she get away?" Tony asked, opening his eyes. Nothing. The suit must have malfunctioned, because he couldn't see anything. Just black, everything was black. Weird.

"Yeah, she split right when Natasha started shooting at her," Steve said, and Tony reached up to manually move his faceplate, since the motor didn't seem to be functioning.

His metal glove touched his bare face. Skin.

Confusion and terror washed over him, and he blinked, forcing himself to sit up. He blinked again. No, this couldn't be right. But he could feel his faceplate, flipped up, not lowered.

"Guys…I can't see," he said, shaking his head, as if that might clear it up. "I can't see."

"What?" there was Bruce's voice again, and silence for a few moments. "Not at all? Tony?"

"No, I can't see a goddamn thing," Tony said, panic rising in his voice. He started to stand up, but hands pushed him back down.

"Stay still, let me have a look-"

"Bruce, I can't see. _I can't see_. What did she do to me?"

"We don't know, we're still trying to figure that out-"

"Figure it out _faster_!"

"There's no sign of injury, Tony. You _look_ fine. The medics from SHIELD are on their way," Natasha's voice said, and Tony bit back a retort.

He was blind. What was it that crazy Snooki mutant had said?

That he had three days. Three days to see what was right in front of him, or this was permanent. What the _hell _did that even mean?

A few more moments, and hands were helping him to his feet, guiding him through the rubble toward the helicopter he could hear landing not far away.


	2. Chapter 2

A centrifuge hits the wall with a loud crash, but Tony didn't even flinch. He was surprised he could tell what he threw this time.

"Let's see, what else won't I be needing in this damn place?" he snapped, his hip slamming painfully into the table's edge as he reached for something else to throw. A light hand landed on his shoulder.

"Tony, calm down, the others are working on this-"

"What are they going to do, Pepper?" Tony said, his voice nearly a snarl as he found his glass of whiskey on the table and took a swig. "The doctors couldn't find a single thing wrong with me. I'm physically perfect. So why can't I see a fucking thing?"

He heard her heels on the floor, felt her hand leave his shoulder. "We'll figure it out," she said, though there was none of her usual confidence behind her tone. She was just as scared and confused as he was, and that only tipped him further.

"Three days. She said three days. Have they gotten me those recordings yet? Anything?"

"They'll be here within an hour or two."

"Now, Pepper, I need them now. Not later. We're kind of working on a deadline here."

"I know," Pepper said. "And JARVIS will notify you the second they're in the system. But you really need to rest-"

"I'm not going to sit around on my ass!" Tony yelled, immediately regretting his tone. He heard nothing for a few moments, and then Pepper's footsteps retreated toward the door.

"Fine, Tony. Fine. Tear your lab apart," she said, and the door swished open and shut again. Tony turned and leaned back against the table, his hip aching where he'd hit it, but he didn't care. He felt helpless. Like he was walking around with his faceplate gone dark, only he couldn't just flip it up. He was trapped inside his own mind.

Of all the places to be trapped, that was probably the most horrifying of them.

The door opened again, and Tony lifted his head toward the sound. Heavier footsteps, a steadier pace.

"Everything okay in here?" Bruce asked, and Tony laughed bitterly.

"Oh, yeah, everything's peachy. Just fine."

"The files are being uploaded now. They'll be here soon," Bruce said, and Tony just nodded, gripping the edge of the table so hard that he was sure his knuckles were white. He heard Bruce stop for a moment, then the sound of broken shards of metal and glass hitting the floor.

"Stress relief?" Bruce asked, and Tony realized that he was cleaning up what was left of the centrifuge.

"I don't need a lecture right now, Banner."

"Wasn't planning on one," Bruce said softly. "I…have an idea. Hold on."

Tony waited as Bruce moved around the lab- he heard a table scraping across the floor, a cabinet opening, and drawers sliding open and shut. Finally the footsteps came toward him, and Bruce's hand gently took the glass of whiskey from his hand and set it aside, holding Tony's hand in one of his.

"If you need to break something, let's make it something disposable," Bruce said, his voice calm as he pressed something heavy into Tony's hand. Tony felt along the cool metal surface with both hands, his eyebrows furrowing in a frown.

"A…crowbar?"

"Over here," Bruce said, gently tugging his arm. Tony followed Bruce's lead, across the room, and then let Bruce take one of his hands and press it to something also made of metal, a large surface. Tony carefully felt the edge, until a shape a bit taller than him began to take form in his mind.

"The prototype of the Mach VI," he said, and Bruce hummed in the affirmative. Tony had been saving this in case they needed any of the smaller motors or wires that were in it, and honestly, he'd forgotten about it till now. He heard Bruce step away.

"Take out as much anger as you want," he said. "I'll clean up this mess."

Tony nodded, listening as Bruce's footsteps moved away once again, and shortly after that, the sound of a broom scraping across the floor through shards of glass and metal.

Tony closed his eyes, and then opened them again. Nothing.

He took the first drunken swing of many, the crowbar connecting with the metal with a loud _clang_.

* * *

Tony woke up back in his bed, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there. The last thing he remembered was landing blow after blow on the prototype.

"JARVIS, time," he choked out, sitting up and blinking. Of course, nothing. Nothing but the darkness that he was still nowhere near getting accustomed to.

"It's almost 6," a voice that most definitely wasn't JARVIS said, and Tony tilted his head.

"Bruce?"

"Here," Bruce said, and Tony felt a glass being pressed into one hand, and two pills into the other. "For your headache. Breakfast is down in the lab, I figured you'd want to eat while we worked. I got started on a layer analysis on all the recordings we took from the battle, the program is running right now."

"Great. Awesome," Tony croaked, though he was having trouble coming up with any kind of excitement for the task ahead. This was all under the assumption that the effects of her screams had something to do with his blindness, when they couldn't be certain of that at all.

Tony tossed back the pills and took a swig of what turned out to be water, practically throwing the glass onto the bedside table, or in the general direction of it. He didn't really care. He slid to the edge of the bed and stood up, getting his bearings before heading for the door.

"Let's get to work," he said, fumbling for the door handle and stepping into the hallway- only to find that there was an entirely new surface under his bare feet. Soft. It was carpet.

"Bruce, what the hell…?"

"Don't worry, they're just runners," Bruce said, his footsteps catching up. His voice sounded utterly exhausted. "I put down carpet runners in the hallways and on the pathways in the lab. If you stick to them, you won't run into things."

Tony snorted, clenching his fists, feeling more helpless than ever. "Thanks," he managed, though it certainly wasn't with a grateful tone. He followed the new pathway down to the lab, aware that Bruce was following him, though the other scientist seemed to know better than to offer help getting down there.

Tony was counting in his head. It had been almost a full day. Two days left, if her crazy ramblings were to be believed.

Two days until he wouldn't ever see again. What use would he be without his sight?

"You said you started running a layer analysis?" Tony said as he stepped into the lab, heading toward the familiar bank of computers. His foot left the carpet, and he adjusted his path, realizing he'd been about to run into a welding table.

"Should be almost done by now," Bruce said, explaining to Tony exactly what the analysis was finding, his voice quiet, and patient.

* * *

Nothing. They'd been working nonstop all day, and they'd found nothing.

The screams and shrieks were just sound waves. They could cause pain, even burst your eardrums at close range, but there were no hidden layers. No currents. Nothing that could explain what she had done to Tony. They were just sounds.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Tony said, slamming a fist down on the table as Bruce read the latest printout.

"Maybe we should try to spectrum analysis again, but on a different frequency-"

"It's not going to change, Bruce, we've run this thing three times."

"Then we'll try a different program. Try running the samples through different currents to see if there were reactions with your suit. Something."

"You and I both know that's not what-"

A crash of glass, and a curse. Tony jerked upright. "Bruce?"

"Sorry, I just…I tripped. I can repair the tablet, I…"

The tablet. The one they were running the analysis on, and Bruce had broken it. Not even doing anything with it, just being a klutz. "Don't even need to be your alter-ego to break something important, huh?"

The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of Bruce stepping back in shock. Tony immediately felt guilt rush through him, but tempered with the hot anger, he couldn't force out an apology. Bruce had screwed this up, after all, and it was his sight in the balance.

"I…I'm sorry," Bruce finally said, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry, Tony."

Footsteps, moving away. Tony turned, shaking his head in confusion. "Bruce? Bruce, where are you going?"

A pause. The door swished open. "…somewhere that I won't break anything important," the broken voice said, and the door shut before Tony could say another word.

Tony clenched his jaw, every muscle tense. He'd never heard Bruce sound like that before. That sad, that…broken.

"He'll come back," Tony convinced himself, turning and fumbling for the touchscreen. "JARVIS, play back recording 2B, and run it through the scramblers we have on this server."

"Certainly, sir."

The scream played again, warbled and distorted, and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, even though it made no difference whatsoever.

_He'll come back. He will._


	3. Chapter 3

For the third time, Tony woke up in pain. This time because he'd fallen asleep with his head on the work table, his fingers still on a touch screen. He jerked awake in a panic, for the first time not wondering why he couldn't see a damn thing.

"Bruce?" he called out uncertainly, before he remembered.

Remembered what he'd said to Bruce before. He suddenly felt sick.

He stumbled to his feet, hands skidding across the desk. "JARVIS, locate my phone."

"The desk to your left, sir."

Tony ran into the desk in his haste to get to it, but he didn't care. His fingers finally closed on the phone, and he lifted it up, pressing the button on the side for voice commands. "Call Bruce Banner."

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Tony held the phone tightly, his stomach dropping down into his feet as the call went to voicemail.

"Stark, what the hell did you do," he muttered, putting a hand on the desk to steady himself. He felt a pile of notebook paper under his fingers, and he frowned, realizing that Bruce had left his notes sitting out.

"JARVIS, what are these papers for?"

"Sir, I believe those are Dr. Banner's notes on an enriched gaseous air system for high pressure and vacuum travel for the suit."

Tony's fingers froze on the papers. High pressure and vacuum travel…like space. There were a few dozen pages here; Bruce had been spending all his time trying to improve Tony's suit in case he needed to do a risky stunt again, rather than finding a cure for himself.

The equations, the patience with his late night drunken antics, the carpet laid out carefully…every moment, Bruce had been there with a steady hand and a calm voice. Even a crowbar, when the moment was right.

And what had Tony done in return?

"JARVIS, where is Dr. Banner?" he asked, his voice desperate.

"He hasn't returned since he left the building last night, sir."

The door slid open, and Tony frowned. "Bruce…?"

"Sorry, no," a voice said, one that was distinctly Steve's. "I came to ask you the same question, though."

"What?"

"Bruce came and got all his belongings from the SHIELD headquarters this morning. He wouldn't talk to any of us," Steve explained. "We thought you might know what was going on, since he'd been helping you. By the way, we located the banshee…"

Tony didn't care. He honestly didn't care anymore about the woman whom they'd nicknamed the banshee, the one who'd struck him blind. He didn't care about analyzing the shrieks and screams, didn't care if he never saw a computer screen again.

Bruce was gone, and it was his fault.

"Steve, get over here. Now," Tony said, and Steve hesitated before stepping over to where Tony stood.

"What…?"

"I'm going to pull up some records. I need you to read them," Tony said before turning his attention to JARVIS. "JARVIS, pull up SHEILD financial records for the past 12 hours, anything connected to an airport."

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, but Tony was already moving toward the screen and dragging Steve along with him.

"Read. Tell me what the transactions are."

Steve cleared his throat. "Uh…two tickets from London to Moscow, four from New York to Atlanta…and one here, New York to Cape Horn, in Africa."

"Cape Horn. When is that flight for?"

"7:15, why?"

"That's Banner," Tony said, jabbing a finger at the screen. "He wouldn't use the card I gave him to buy a ticket out of here, he had to go through SHIELD under a different name. What time is it?"

A pause. "6:30."

45 minutes until the flight took off. That meant fifteen minutes till boarding.

"JARVIS, where's my suit?"

"Your portable is by the door, sir."

"Wait, wait," Steve said, grabbing Tony by the shoulder. "Tony, you have less than four hours to figure this out before you're blind for good."

"Then I'll be blind," Tony snapped, pulling away from Steve and working his way toward the door. "I have to stop him."

The carpet Bruce had rolled out kept him from running into anything on the way.

He fumbled for the briefcase, activated it, and felt the suit snapping into place on him like a second skin. "JARVIS, give me audio directions to the JFK airport. Use the information Steve pulled up on the ticket to guide me directly to the gate."

"Sir, I must object to you using the suit in your condition."

"No, the only thing you must do is shut up and give me directions," Tony snapped, heading for the door to the balcony. He felt a pair of strong hands on his arm, and for a moment he thought Steve was trying to stop him again- but the grip actually led him forward, toward the door, and opened it up for him.

"I hope you catch him," Steve said softly, and Tony just nodded, activating the thrusters and taking off, staying high to avoid the tops of buildings until he got closer.

* * *

He got to the airport in what had to be record time. Listening to the pinging of the radar built into the system, he shot down toward the terminal.

"Am I on the right track, JARVIS?"

"The gate in question is directly ahead and a bit to the left, sir, but there's no entryway-"

"I'll make my own."

Seconds later, he crashed through the glass windows of the terminal wing, rolling to a stop against a soft surface. A suitcase, probably. No time to wonder. He stood up, ignoring the surprised shouts and the stares he imagined were probably being leveled his way.

"JARVIS, the gate?"

"Go left, sir."

Tony turned to the left, taking a few steps into pitch dark, unfamiliar surroundings. "Bruce!" he yelled, not bothering to slow down- he was hard to miss, people would get out of his way.

Ouch. But that giant trash can didn't, not one bit. He wouldn't be surprised if he left a scratch in the paint job with how hard he ran into that.

"What are you doing here?"

The voice was familiar, and nearby. Tony breathed a sigh of relief, reaching out. Nothing. Bruce was keeping a good distance. Tony took a few steps toward the voice.

"Cape Horn, Bruce? Don't you think that's a little far?"

"I was going to say it wasn't far enough," Bruce muttered. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"Stopping you."

"Why? You were pretty clear earlier about not wanting me around to screw up anything else."

"I'm an idiot," Tony said, not caring that he could hear the murmur of people around them. They didn't matter, not right now. "I'm an idiot, Bruce, and…I lost my temper."

"Yeah. You did," Bruce said, his voice still carefully guarded, held back. Tony stepped forward again, reached out, and this time his gloved hand hit something. He felt Bruce grab his hand and push it away.

"Shouldn't you be working on those recordings?" Bruce asked sharply. "I did everything I could. You have a few hours left, I'm sure you can figure it out without breaking anything."

"I broke the only thing in that whole lab that I care about," Tony said, lifting his faceguard. The sadness, the hurt in Bruce's voice was enough to tear him apart. He reached out again, grabbing onto Bruce's arm and tugging him closer. "Bruce…I'm sorry."

It went without saying that Tony Stark didn't take an apology lightly. That much was well known. Here he was, though, standing in a terminal of crowded people, practically begging for forgiveness from the one person who'd cared for him enough to stay with him.

The one person that he may have hurt beyond repair.

"I understand if you don't want to stay," Tony continued. "I understand. I'll send you supplies, to wherever you're going, but…just don't leave like _this_."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Tony felt a hand press against the metal chest piece of his armor.

"I'm just…sorry I couldn't do more to help you," Bruce practically whispered, and Tony nearly growled.

"Don't you _dare_ say you're sorry, Banner," he said, and then he reached up, one gloved hand on each side of Bruce's face, and tugged him forward into a fierce kiss, closing his eyes. Bruce tensed under his hands with surprise, but only for a few moments before returning the kiss. There was a collective gasp from their impromptu audience, and Tony heard at least a few cameras clicking rapidly.

He didn't care.

"Don't leave," he whispered against Bruce's lips.

"I won't."

Tony opened his eyes- and blinked in the sudden light. He could see Bruce's face inches from his own, eyes still half closed, dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes, his hair a ruffled mess.

He didn't want to see anything else. He pulled Bruce back into another kiss, this one more desperate, deeper. When they finally broke apart again, Bruce met his gaze and seemed to realize that he was being seen.

"You…you can see," he said breathlessly, confused.

"She said I had to see what was right in front of me," Tony said with a smirk. "I guess I finally opened my eyes."

Just as Steve arrived to a chaotic scene of broken glass and confused travelers, Tony kissed Bruce again, not closing his eyes this time.

He wanted to see every moment.


End file.
